Battle for the Sun
by Dead.SummerXx
Summary: Revenge, vindication, justice. That was all that mattered. He just did not expect to feel so hollow, in the end. Sasuke-centric; drabble


**Title:** Battle for the Sun

**Author: **DeadSummerXx

**Characters/Pairing: **Sasuke U.

**Type:** One-shot (Complete)

**Genre:** Angst

**Word Count:** 999

**Rating: **T (Contains content not suitable for children)

**Disclaimer:** Naruto belongs to Kishimoto-san.

**Summary: **Revenge, vindication, justice. That was all that mattered. He just did not expect to feel so hollow, in the end. Sasuke-centric; drabble

**Created on:** 08/04/09

**Completed on:** 08/04/09

**Chapter Last Revised on:** 12/27/09

**A/N:** I love Itachi, I really do. But this is from Sasuke-bastard's point of view, remember that - not mine. :/

* * *

**Battle for the Sun**

* * *

_I, I, I, will battle for the sun, sun, sun.  
And I, I, I wont stop until I'm done, done, done.  
You, you, you are getting in the way, way, way.  
And I, I, I have nothing left to say, say, say.__, my lover._

I, I, I, I, I will brush off all the dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt, dirt.  
And I, I, I, I, I will pretend it didn't hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt.  
You, you, you, you, you, are a black and heavy weight, weight, weight, weight, weight, weight, weight.  
And I, I, I, I, I, will not participate, pate, pate, pate, pate, pate, pate.

Dream brother, my killer, my lover.  
Dream brother, my killer, my lover.

I, I, I will battle for the sun, sun, sun, sun.  
Cause I, I, I, have stared down the barrel of a gun, gun, gun, gun, gun, gun, gun.  
No fun, you, you, you, you, you are a cheap and nasty fake, fake, fake, fake, fake, fake, fake.  
And I, I, I, I, I am the bones you couldn't break, break, break, break, break, break, break, break!

Dream brother, my killer, my lover.  
Dream brother, my killer

Dream brother, my killer, my lover.  
Dream brother, my killer, my lover.  
Dream brother, my killer, my lover.  
Dream brother, my killer, my lover.

I, I, I will battle for the sun.

* * *

There comes a time in everyone's life when time just seems to fast-forward in rewind.

For Sasuke, it seems like this has always been so, since the night that Itachi slaughtered their clan – replayed the images of death and destruction and murder and agony and pain and trauma over and over and over and over in his mind again and again, from the blood splattering against the stone walls, wooden floors, like waves hitting against cold stone, highlighted in bright red _(like the Sharingan, like the Mangekyou, like the moon and your tears and the color of your heart, shriveled and dead but _alive), the reflection of his brother's cold, impassive face mirrored on the tainted katana, the blood rushing, pounding in his ears and the distantly registered, echoing screams of agony and their reverberations, rippling and perforating through the fabric of his very soul.

For as long as he can remember, Sasuke has lived in the past, dwelled there, thought there, clung there, rooted himself and his mind in the past, as his younger self – because that was all he had ever understood, all he had ever known. And then the massacre happened, frighteningly fresh and bright and vivid in his mind to this day _(like the contrast of black and white, of good and evil and the opposite of nonexistent gray, because if you ignore it, it isn't there, and things are so much easier, like the contrast of black tomoe against horrifyingly brilliant scarlet crimson, of pale skin and dark hair and dark eyes and dark minds and dark souls, dark hearts, against a backdrop of the creamy bloodred moon and the agony, the mental pain so intense it was – is – physical, like stars against the night sky, the ones that 'Kaa-san used to love so much, the ones that they would count on breezy, warm summer nights and capture fireflies _(lightningbugs)_ and then set them free, as they flickered against the dark forest-green lawn and the rushing burble of the Nakano river, stained, tainted and contaminated with the liquid of death, of Shisui, of irony). _From then on, time had passed swiftly, replaying in reverse over and over. He revisited the memories every second of every day, hearing his own screams like they were released in that very moment, watched as though from an external point as he went through his teenage years with nothing but hatred and contempt and detestation and ambition, as time fast-forwarded in a screeching blur while his physical self was thrust forward while he was left mentally standing on the cold, hard, bloody steps of yesterday.

No matter how fiercely he tried, it always seemed like he _just couldn't win_, ever since birth. Itachi was always fifty steps ahead, always winning, always being _stronger, _more _powerful,_ _manipulative, and just so much __**greater.**_ No matter how hard he tried, how forcefully he beat his wings against the bars of his cage, of his brother's greatness, against the hurdles Itachi set for him, against his manipulation, of Itachi _himself_, his wings were just left bloody, beaten, and bruised, broken, unable to mend and fly again, as his agonized cries, his ideals, ambitions, fortitude, and pure, unadulterated _rage _were swallowed in the harsh grayness of reality, against the bloodred crimsons of the alternate universe of torture that was Mangekyou, that was Itachi as his mindfuckery, that was himself and the world and fact.

His entire life had been completely focused on besting his elder brother, regardless of the consequences, no matter what, no matter who, no matter where, no matter _when._ Up until this point, everything had been dead-set on that goal and that goal only. It had been a matter of pride, of trust and pain, at first. But as Sasuke got older, it developed into an unhealthy obsession – a need for any kind of justice, closure, however twisted it may be, however much this was becoming a complex, a mania at its truest form – because without this, there was nothing. And he wouldn't let Itachi take that from him, too, even if it killed him. Revenge, repentance, vindication. That was all that mattered.

So as he closes his eyes against the cold, harsh rain _(cold and harsh like the blade of a katana - like the feeling in the pit of his stomach at seeing his parent's dead bodies, of his father's stare – "Be like Itachi" – "__People live their lives bound by what they accept as correct and true. That's how they define "reality". But what does it mean to be "correct" or "true"? Merely vague concepts ... their "reality" may all be a mirage. Can we consider them to simply be living in their own world, shaped by their beliefs?_" _- "…ne, Sasuke?" – cold like the metal on his forehead protector, harsh like the unforgiving tendrils of pain)_ and hears the dull thump of his brother's body hitting the ground, he thinks – _knows _– he has won. He has seen through Itachi's illusions, seen through his lies and deception, has seen reality, and has achieved vindication and revenge, has achieved closure.

This obsession is all he has ever had, and now that his purpose is finished, he does not know what to think – only that he doesn't need to, for now. And he lets his lips, slightly cracked and bloody, split into a bitter, victorious smirksmile as he hears the resounding _crack-crackle-clap!_ of lighting over head while the thunder rumbles and bellows overhead, as his bloody katana falls to the concrete with a sharp clang. He knows that it is all he has ever had, knows that he had foolishly expected a victorious sense of pride, of satisfaction and implementation, and he swallows against the dry knot in his throat as he collapses onto his side and elbows, shifting uncomfortably, fighting against chakra exhaustion and fatigue, against unconsciousness, against the deepening void that is clenching somewhere deep within his soul.

He knows that he had not expected to feel so hollow.

* * *

Battle for the Sun © Placebo

Ahh my lovlies! I've missed you!

So sorry for the inactivity, btw. I've just been really really really busy.

Other than my return, I also have some bad news.

Sorry, folks, but it seems as though Equidad will be taken down, even after all of my (empty) promises. I've just lost the will for it. Again, I'm really sorry to those who had been hoping for an update.

Merry Belated Christmas,

—Summer


End file.
